


Citizen of Delos

by lferion



Category: Roads of Heaven - Melissa Scott
Genre: Challenge Response, Community: lgbtfest, First Time, M/M, POV Alternating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-12
Updated: 2009-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-02 09:59:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lferion/pseuds/lferion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marriage across cultures is complicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Citizen of Delos

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Musica Humana](https://archiveofourown.org/works/160743) by [Penknife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Penknife/pseuds/Penknife). 



> Written for the 2009 lgbtfest fic challenge -- Prompt# 1127 - Roads of Heaven, Denis/Julie, Delos is accepting of the full spectrum of sexuality, the Rusadir and the Hegemony are not.
> 
> This story incorporates Penknife's [Musica Humana](http://penknife.livejournal.com/316574.html) as part of the canon. Things will make more sense if you read that first, though I trust it stands on its own as well.
> 
> Many thanks to Auberus and Penknife for encouragement, editing and commentary. And persuading me that yes, the sex really did need to be written.

> Silence settles down with her elbow propped on Denis's thigh, as he hasn't deigned to move for her convenience. "It's perfectly respectable," she says. "From a certain odd point of view."
> 
> "Very odd," Julie says, sliding over to make room for her between them.
> 
> "There's nothing wrong with it," Denis says, sounding a little frustrated. It can't be easy for him sometimes, knowing that in some ways he'll always be the alien to both of them.
> 
> Julie shrugs. "But still odd."
> 
> "We're not exactly usual," Denis says, shifting to put his arm around Silence's waist. He smiles down at her to make it clear that's pride, not dismay. "And if it suits us, I don't see what it matters what other people think."
> 
> Julie meets Silence's eyes. He thinks they're both aware that Denis will never entirely understand the way they see the world. She smiles just a little ruefully.

Quote from Penknife's [Musica Humana](http://penknife.livejournal.com/316574.html)

*** *** ***

Restless, Denis turns in the bed in the cabin on the newly refitted and renamed _Recusante_. He misses the warm solidity of Julie at his back, the warm softness of Silence at his side. He no longer sleeps well alone, and it doesn't help that he's tired but not sleepy. This is one of the quietest times in the 'day' — the night-sky rising, but hours still before the lines are clear enough of interference for ships to move. Solitudo Hermae's port is too quiet for comfort, the Workings of Art a vibration in the bone, a texture in the air. It is still enough that he can almost hear the constant, crawling music that gives animation to the homunculi, that shimmers from the hemisphere of fixed fire that is the day-sky. It feels too like the siege-engines that subdued Castax, and he keeps listening for the inaudible sound of Hell cracking open and the screams of dying keels. He pushes the nightmare thoughts away, burrowing into the pillows, breathing in the faint remnants of Julie's scent on the sheets.

It's taking Denis a long time to recover from the effects of the geas, even after Silence has broken it. He tries not to let Julie and Silence see, not just because he learned so thoroughly and so long ago never to expose weakness or vulnerability to anyone, trusted or not, if he can help it, but because he doesn't want sympathy, and he doesn't believe empathy is possible, not for this. He knows he wouldn't have survived the transport if Silence hadn't done whatever it was she had done and given him a way to fight it and not fight it at the same time — acceptance is deception is resistance. To live with it, minute by minute at first, then for whole hours at a time. He's grateful to have them both, grateful not just for what they did, who they are and that they care, but for the bonds they have between them.

He knows very well that if he had been captured alone, if he hadn't had them, he would never have found the will to bend his neck to the geas in the first place. If he hadn't wanted Julie any way he could have him, even if that meant never having him the way he really wanted at all. And it's not as though he hasn't come to appreciate Silence as well; appreciate and care about even when he occasionally feels like he and Julie are merely the tail to her comet. He doesn't really let himself think about how they seem to have more in common with each other than they ever will with him. He knows they won't abandon him. He knows he could never abandon them, either of them.

There is nothing wrong with the atmospherics, but he is cold, and every muscle aches. He remembers waking on the transport cradled between them; remembers Julie's hands easing the strain and stiffness from his back on the last trip to Delos and a moment when it almost seemed as though it might become more; remembers the three of them making something new between them when they returned. Remembers Julie's fingers curling at the base of his skull, strong and gentle, calluses brushing the sensitive skin, that touch, that connection bringing him over the edge to shattering completion.

He wants that again. Wants more. He wants to feel Julie filling him, wants to taste his heat, his desire, the bittersweet salt of his sweat, his semen, wants to feel him trembling on the precipice of orgasm and watch as they go over together.

Maybe he should just ask Julie for what he wants. Even as he thinks about it he flinches, anticipating pain; the memory of the geas shocking through him, enforcing the Hegemony's idea of chastity and proper form, not free to desire what he desires, free to be rejected. Delos does not approve of congress without consent, and to freely consent, one must be free to reject, married or not. The Hegemony does not approve of men having congress with men, Delosian or not, married or not. The geas enforced that disapproval, dissonance on top of distress. The Rusadir is more like the Hegemony than not in matters of sexual mores, and Julie grew up an oligarch of Kesse. It is only marriage (a practical arrangement, not passionate, not on Julie's part, Silence's part, not at the outset, no matter Denis' feelings, nor the fact that passion had come to enter into it) that makes him a citizen of Delos.

Denis cannot bear the thought of forcing Julie to that decision, of seeing that look (Druta's look, Gyazi's, discomfort and disgust and fastidious distaste, oh so superior and condescending, with the keys to his very existence in their hands, entirely out of his control) on Julie's face. Julie has those keys too, freely given, whether he knows it or not. Denis doesn't really think that Julie would be disgusted, and knows that he would never be cruel, but he can't quite dismiss the possibility of blank incomprehension, and he's feeling too fragile to risk it. Better to stay with what they have than chance breaking it. It isn't as though they don't have enough to worry about.

It occurs to him that while Marcinik had looked at him with pity, his eyes had never held disgust. And really, Julie is neither dense nor unobservant; it is unlikely that he would have failed to notice that Denis liked men at least as much as he liked women. Even less likely that the concept itself was alien to him. If Julie was going to be disgusted he would have been already. A mocking voice in his head replies _And if he were actually interested, surely he would have said or done something himself by now._

_The concept might not be alien, but the idea of applying it personally could very well never have occurred to Julie._ Denis retorts to himself. It doesn't actually help.

Denis turns again, finding no comfort in the smooth sheets, the resilient new foam of the mattress. Finally he gets up and pads naked to the common room, makes himself a mug of chocolate. Even now he could dress, get a transport, go up to the school, crawl into Silence's wide bed. Silence and Julie would welcome him. The freight delivery is not so early in the morning that staying with the ship is required. But Silence and Julie deserve time just together, too, especially with a longer run coming up at the end of the week. At least three days on Delos and several stops on the way, coming and going.

The hot drink comforts his stomach, easing the knots, and finally his thoughts stop clamoring. There is the long run in Julie's company, and if Julie has made no overt advances, he has voiced no rejections, either. Denis has waited this long, he can wait a little longer. After all, Denis himself has made no overt advances either beyond what they have shared all three together. And there had been no hesitation in Julie's hands on his back, his knee, curling softly through his hair. He curls into the depths of the cushion-chair — Julie's chair — tucking his feet up, and lets sleep take him.

*** *** ***

Julie does enjoy having a night of just Silence and himself, and they don't talk about Denis, though they do talk about Delos. For all the scores of times he's been to the planet, there was something different this time, as if the multitude and variety of people there had settled into a different pattern, a new kind of focus. They talk about Kesse, and Cap Bel, and Julie realizes they are both using past tense, memory. The grief and anger are not gone, but they have receded a little. Their focus is on the future now, and a future with Earth in it (and Earth was more like Delos than not at the diaspora) is brighter than one with only the Hegemony.

Just as they are settling to sleep, Silence is called from their bed by a peremptory summons from Isambard, some kind of unusual phenomena or something that Isambard wants her to see. Grumbling she unwinds herself from him and invokes light, embarrassing the messenger-page. Silence ignores him and gets dressed while Julie watches with appreciation. He likes her curves, the rich color of her skin, the way her hair makes shadows. The page has his eyes averted. Apparently Silence has decided she doesn't care what he thinks; perhaps what Denis said the other evening has made a difference. Julie realizes that it doesn't matter to him what the page thinks either, and imagines the look of vindication and outright glee that would shine in Denis' face were he here to witness.

Julie and Silence share a smile as she kisses him. "This is likely to take the rest of the night, unfortunately. I expect you'll be gone down to the port by the time I get back. Give Denis my love."

"I will." Julie thinks that Silence had much the same thought as to Denis' reaction to the situation. "We should be done with the loading by half night-rise." He cups her cheek and kisses her back. "Back in time for supper."

"Good. Meet at our usual table, then." With a fleeting caress of his lips she is on her way out the door after the page, the lights doused to faint glows.

Julie flops back among the pillows, wide awake. He'd watched Denis the same way this morning, unselfconscious in his nakedness as he emerged from the bath, dried and stretched and dressed. In his own way, he thinks, slowly, feeling his way, Denis is as beautiful as Silence; his angles and edges as interesting as her curves, the light in his eyes as welcoming. Julie knows his skin is as fine, remembered muscles moving under his hands, locking, knotted, easing as he soothed them. Suddenly he wonders if Denis' lips are as mobile and soft as they look, and what _would_ happen if he kissed them.

Heat pools in his belly, tightens his groin. They are married. He and Denis as much as he and Silence, Denis and Silence, the three of them together.

_"In marriage many things are made, the solace and comfort of the flesh not least. Seek joy of your spouse, delight in their secret places even as they find delight in yours; learn of their needs and desires, what pleases, comforts, excites and completes; rejoice in the discovery of your own. An there is no harm, no act forbidden that brings pleasure and springs from love, from care and affection and desire. Within the bond of marriage there is no shame in need and the meeting of need, in desire and the fulfillment of desire, in love and the expression of love. Neither is there shame in ignorance, only in the refusal to amend it. Shame is of the world, and the world has no part in the congress of the married."_

Julie had forgotten that passage, the text taken from the writings of an ancient scholar-poet of Salen-Talanth, part of a lesson on the duties of a noble son, preparation for a future unimaginable to a boy seduced by the song of the harmonium and the siren call of space. But he had been a dutiful son, for the most part, and somewhere in the recesses of his mind this fragment had been stored. His tutor had spoken only of formal arrangements, of men with women, proper and acceptable ways. But the words of the poet had not been so narrow.

No shame. No shame in desire, no shame in ignorance either, but a call to learn and be joyful in intimacy with one another. He and Silence have that, they've made a start at having that all three together; why not he and Denis?

Abruptly, Julie throws off the covers and rises. It is not even middle night. His skin almost fizzes as he pulls on his clothes, shoves his feet into his shoes. It's not like Silence will object or be hurt; she'd as much as said she hoped for it. And he knows that in this, if nothing else, that Denis will not laugh at him, whatever he may feel about it.

All the way to the port on the transport, the walk across to the docking shed and along the felt-baffled corridor to the ship, Julie falters between apprehension and excitement, uncertainty and anticipation. He doesn't know what's going to happen, he doesn't know what he's going to discover about Denis, about himself, or what those discoveries might change between the three of them. But having come to this place in himself, with them, he cannot not go forward.

He loves the man, loves him as he loves Silence. They are married. Married, he is a citizen of Delos now, even if he'll always be from Kesse. They do this kind of thing on Delos. And he would like to see Denis brought to incoherent ecstasy by his hands; have that to place against the sense-memory of Denis convulsing in agony in his arms.

The hatch opens to Julie's palm, the lock recognizing him. He enters quietly, not wanting to wake Denis if he is asleep. (He's still too thin, tires too easily, and he's always been a light sleeper.) The sight that greets him when he gets to the commons makes his heart thud and his groin tighten even as his face heats.

Denis is naked, asleep in the cushion-chair, somewhere between a sprawl and a curl with one knee raised and the other spread, his head tucked into the curve of an elbow. His hand lies loose on his thigh, long fingers just brushing the short curls that frame the generous shape of his sex, the swell of his balls. His eyelashes are smudges of shadow on his cheeks, and without the force and fire of his gaze, Julie is aware of the paradox of his lithe strength and slight frame, how the lines of age and effort do not disguise the soft mouth, the vulnerable throat.

Julie must have made some kind of sound, because Denis stirs and opens his eyes. There is a look in his face that Julie cannot read, not a dare, or a challenge, certainly not shame or even self-consciousness, but something that could be wary stillness, desire unlooked for, apprehensive hope. The hand on Denis' thigh flexes once and flattens against the fine, pale skin, but otherwise he doesn't move, waiting for Julie to say something, do something.

It's not like he hasn't seen Denis in the altogether before, both awake and asleep, but this is somehow different. This is Denis exposed, undisguised. It is astonishing. It is _arousing_.

Julie swallows, his heart in his throat. He doesn't have any words for this, no scale or voidmark or cantrip, any more than he did the other night. He is very aware of his own skin suddenly, the way the cloth moves against his chest, the constriction of his pants, the weight of his shoes. Almost without volition he reaches for the fastening tab of his shirt. He should be as naked, as open, as exposed. The air on his skin is a caress, and Denis' gaze is as tangible as sunlight.

Presently Julie is naked, and Denis is the one flushed and breathing fast, his sex jutting stiff and proud, his hand clenched on his thigh. Now the look in his eyes is need-desire, but he still doesn't move from where he lounges in the chair. Julie lets his pants fall and stands before Denis, close enough they can feel each other's heat. He's not at all sure what comes next, but he wants it.

Denis wets his lips, reaches out a hand, places it lightly on the firm plane of Julie's belly, above the swell of his interested sex. The touch is electric. He can feel the tremor in the fine bones against his skin.

"Julie." Denis' voice is quiet, the sound of his name a startlement. "Is this what you want?"

Julie hears the faint note of strain in Denis' voice, knows that it is only will that is keeping him motionless in the face of the very opposite of reluctance. Some last hesitation melts at the effort Denis is making to let Julie set the pace. He draws a deliberate breath. "Yes. Yes it is." He leans into the warmth of Denis' hand, reaches his own out to cup the familiar curve of the back of Denis' head. "I want us to be husbands to each other in truth."

The words are hardly out of his mouth before Denis' lips are on his, and he is wholly caught up in sensation.

*** *** ***

After they are both breathless with kisses, Denis maneuvers them to the cabin, onto the bed. He wouldn't mind being fucked senseless over the arm of the cushion-chair (_the perfect height for it_ an irrepressible corner of his mind had remarked when they bought it) but Julie isn't ready for that idea yet, he thinks. Better a familiar setting for a first experience. Denis is quite certain that Julie has never had sex with a man. He is almost as sure that he'd never been with a woman before Silence. The knowledge touches something in him. Denis doesn't in the least regret his own very different history, but it does reinforce his desire to make sure that Julie thoroughly enjoys what happens between them.

They tussle amongst the pillows for a bit, laughing and kissing, exploring each other. There is no part of Julie that Denis does not find beautiful, and Julie seems fascinated by some of the most unexpected things — finding places and touching Denis in ways that make him gasp and shiver and catch his breath. When Denis figures Julie is both aroused enough and comfortable enough, he starts to ask if Julie will let him suck him off, and discovers himself asking Julie to fuck him instead. It's what he wants. What he's wanted for years. Julie doesn't recoil in horror; in fact he seems quite enthusiastic about the idea.

Julie runs his hands up and down Denis' back, tracing tingling spirals over newly discovered sensitive spots, dipping into the valley between his buttocks. Denis returns the favor to Julie's nipples, the arch of his collarbones and the hollow of his throat while Julie contemplates the logistics of what they are about to do. Denis realizes he's forgotten something just as Julie brings up the practical issue of moving parts and lubrication.

"We'll just have to improvise." There must be something they can use.

Julie's smile is apparent in his voice. "Here I thought sure you would be more than…"

"Prepared?" Denis finishes for him, grinning. "I was, on ..." the breathless laughter stops abruptly. _Sun-Treader._ He cannot say her name, can hardly think it, the ship he, they, have lost, a grief he cannot allow himself to feel much less express. But Julie's arms are around him, his length still hard against his thigh, lips gentle in his hair as for a moment (only a moment, but that's alright, this is Julie, and Julie knows) Denis hides his face in the hollow of Julie's shoulder, letting the stab of pain and loss crest and retreat, pushing it away. He swallows, pulling himself back together, back into this moment with Julie, hoped-for, longed for, even planned for, but never assumed. "Before. Next time, I will be." Certainly he _hopes_ there will be a next time. He finds a smile and looks up. Julie's eyes do not remark on the thickness in his voice, the dampness on his skin.

Instead Julie's mouth finds his temple, hairline, the hollow of his throat, and his hands roam warm on Denis' back. "And there will be a next time." There is no uncertainty in Julie's chuckling rumble.

But it is still _this_ time, and more than ever Denis wants what he wants, and judging by Julie's unflagging erection, he wants it too. The first-aid kit (top of the line, never any stinting there) yields a suitable gel, and presently Denis has Julie shivering and bucking into his hand as he uses his mouth to bring him close to the brink, his hands to slick him up thoroughly and lovingly. He's taken the opportunity to stretch and slick himself a little, and he's looking forward to teaching that art to Julie (he's fantasized about those large and talented fingers almost as much as he has about this large and eager cock) but that too is for next time. He wants to keep Julie on this side of overwhelmed, at least until he's got him all the way inside.

They arrange themselves like spoons, but now Julie hesitates, uncertain, and Denis realizes that Julie is afraid of hurting him, does not know how to proceed.

_Powers below, Julie, I won't break!_ Denis thinks but does not say. Instead he bites his lip and almost sobs with need, then he twists around, pins one of his legs with his own, reaches for Julie's cock. Julie groans and lets him position him. They both cry out as Denis flexes back his hips and Julie enters him, deep and uncontrolled. Julie's hands are clamped on his shoulder, his hip, holding him together as the bright, hot pressure-pain-pleasure threatens to break him apart. It has been a very long time since he's let himself be fucked. (Not since the one time Julie asked about warships, and Denis tried to convince himself it wouldn't matter if Julie left. That it wasn't Julie he wanted taking him precisely the way he was filling him right now.)

For a long moment they shudder together, still, and then the overwhelming sensation transmutes to unalloyed pleasure and stillness is not enough. Denis arches back further, taking Julie further in, and Julie begins to follow his lead, tentative at first, then gaining confidence as he finds a rhythm that makes Denis feel they are soaring past purgatory and into the realm of heaven. He's making noises he's never made before, feeling things he's never felt. Julie's breath is in his ear, and he's making wonderful noises too. When Julie's tempo changes to something deeper and harder, and Julie's hand slides between his legs to cup his own straining cock, Denis can hold out no longer, and his climax takes him like a storm.

*** *** ***

Denis' cock weeps and jumps in Julie's hand, thin, hot skin sliding over the iron-hard core, extraordinary sensation, and Denis moans and thrashes, urging him on. Julie moves in him again, tight heat gripping him, different from Silence's slick warmth, but no difference at all in the welcome he is given, the way his balls tighten, the way his cock glories in the friction. That Denis is so open to him, the naked ecstasy on his face as he comes, arching up, crying out as his body jerks and spasms around him, milking Julie's own completion from him in a very few wild thrusts more.

Denis is trembling, shaking, completely undone, boneless in his arms. Julie is pretty undone himself. They both moan as as Julie's spent length softens and slips free. Neither of them move, despite the sticky residue of passion drying on their skin. He thinks Denis may have had a plan, but he suspects that revealing this much of himself to Julie wasn't actually part of it. Julie takes the gift for the love that it is and tucks it deep in his heart for safekeeping. After a while, Denis' ragged breath smoothes, his trembling eases, and he sleeps

He knows that in this, with this, he could wound Denis deeply, likely past healing. He wonders if Silence had seen this vulnerability in him, and realizes she had, whether Denis knew it or not. Had she not worried that he be hurt? What a strange and wonderful thing love is, indeed. Carefully, gently, still dazed and exalted with his own reactions, Julie folds Denis close and follows him into sleep.

*** *** ***


End file.
